COCK ROBIN’S MURDERER 75 
And whom if chance the falcon makes his prey, 
Or hedger with his well-aimed arrow slay, 
In no such loss the gay survivor grieves, 
New love he seeks, and new delight receives.” 
The above is gospel truth. 
I know a man who once slew in succession seven 
cock-sparrows. It happened in this wise. A couple 
of sparrows determined to build in his verandah. He 
willed otherwise, and, by way of showing that he meant 
what he said, murdered the cock-bird. Did the widowed 
hen sit and mope? Did she shed tears of lamentation? 
Did she call upon the gods to witness the cruel blow 
that had fallen upon her? Did she “in soft murmurs 
tell the trees her pain”? Nothing of the kind. For 
a minute or so she swore lustily at the slayer of her 
husband; she then flew away, to return five minutes 
later with a second husband, and together they set to 
work at the nest. 
The second cock-bird shared the fate of number one, 
The hen-sparrow then returned with number three, 
and continued to replace her murdered husbands until 
she had lured six to their destruction. Then my friend 
stayed his hand. He was prostrated by the cruel and 
cynical heartlessness of the hen-sparrow. But she 
had her own way. She brought up a family in that 
verandah, 
I do not hold it to be an offence for a bird to build its 
nest inside my house, provided the bird does not molest 
the human inhabitants of the building. If a winged 
creature chooses to rear a family in the space between 
the ceiling-cloth and the rafters of my bungalow, I say, 
